


Pretend That We're Okay

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 00:29:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17818373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: This was what was best for Damian. His own emotions had no place here.





	Pretend That We're Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Based on ‘Happier’ by Bastille/Marshmallow. This hits me as a very Dick and Damian song, from both perspectives. 4k words of just emotional vomit, have fun kids. Just another instance of real poor communication and basically everyone around Dick saying/thinking ‘I told you so.’ 3/5s of this fic happen in front of a computer, sorry I’m really unoriginal haha.

This was necessary, he told himself. This was the natural progression. This is what was best. This was how it should be.

…This was so fucking _hard_.

But he forced his own emotions down. Forced a smile to his face as he watched Damian suit up, become Robin for another night of saving the world.

Watched as Bruce suited up to be his partner. Watched the one true Batman return to his former glory. The protector of Gotham, with his bird right at his side.

For the first time.

He shushed the voice in his head. That greedy, selfish voice that said Damian was _his_ partner, not Bruce’s. That he shouldn’t have to share, because Batman never shared his Robin, even to another Batman. That he should fuck his head injury, he doesn’t care he got shot. He can still suit up, still go with Damian himself.

He silenced that anxious voice too, that was churning his gut, telling him this wasn’t going to go well. Damian was too nervous, Bruce was too harsh. That they would clash and yell and scream at each other. That Damian was still too unstable about his place in the family, and might take that as a sign that he should leave. Be so convinced he should disappear that not even Dick would be able to reach him.

But this was for the best. This was what Damian _wanted_. This would make him happy. And Dick hated how much he would do for any of his brothers’ happiness.

“…You’re gonna do great.” Dick whispered, when he caught Damian’s nervous body language, his thousand-yard stare. “Bruce is way better than me. If Gotham’s criminals were scared of me and you, they won’t know what hit ‘em with you and Bruce.”

Damian didn’t respond, just continued putting on his uniform.

“Call me if you need help, okay?” Dick continued. Rambling, to fill the silence. He saw Damian glance at him in the mirror with a raised brow. “I’ll come if you need me. I promise.”

“…Richard, you’re still recovering.” Damian hummed. “You were shot in the head just a few weeks ago, in case you forgot.”

Dick chuckled, shook his head. There was a dull ache with each turn. “No, kiddo, I didn’t forget.”

“Loathe as I am to admit it, at this point, I’d rather call Drake first than you.” Damian said almost sheepishly. “You need your rest.”

“Yeah, well. I need you safe.” Dick grumbled grumpily. “And we still don’t know where Hurt went. What if he showed up tonight, distracted Bruce and left you all alone? He could try to manipulate you again. I don’t want that to happen.”

“Grayson, the chances of that happening are incredibly slim.” Damian offered, clicking the cape around his throat. “Besides. I can handle him.”

“…Yeah, of course you can.” Dick sighed. Damian stared at himself in the mirror for a moment more before turning away. Dick gave him an even brighter smile as Damian stepped towards him. “You ready?”

Damian stared at him, then smirked with a scoff. “I was born ready.”

Dick laughed, genuinely, as he ruffled Damian’s hair. Damian laughed too, such a far cry from the first time Dick did that and he tried to break his fingers, and pushed his hand away gently.

Silently, they walked side by side through the cave. Damian, his shoulders straight and head held high. Dick, feeling like he was walking in a funeral procession. Dick veered off as they passed the computers, coming to a stop next to Barbara, and watching as Damian continued towards the cars without him, to where Bruce was waiting.

He could feel Barbara glancing up at him between keystrokes on the computer, could feel her judgment and, worse, her pity.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” She murmured, leaning her shoulder against his hip. “You don’t have to give him up.”

“Yes I do.” Dick returned just as quietly. “He…He deserves this.”

“Sure he does.”  Barbara shrugged. “…But maybe Bruce doesn’t.”

Dick didn’t answer.

“You did all the work, Dick. _You_ trained him, _you_ broke through his walls. You saved him from Talia and her god awful indoctrination.” They watched as Damian slowly made his way down the stairs. Stopped on the last one, watched Bruce make his final checks on the car. “Why does he get to swoop in and reap all the rewards of that?”

“Because he’s Batman.” Dick sighed. “And Batman needs his Robin.”

“Yeah.” She dug her elbow into his thigh. “He _does_.”

“Babs, come on. This isn’t about Bruce. This is about Damian. He’s always wanted to work with his Bruce. This is _his_ reward, not anyone else’s.” Dick snapped. “It’s what he’s _always_ wanted. I’d be a real prick to get in the way of that.” A hesitation. “Besides, I’m benched.”

“That’s never stopped you before.” Barbara reminded. “ _Besides_ , maybe this isn’t about what he wants. Maybe this should really be about what Damian _needs_.”

“Damian needs his dad.”

“Damian needs someone who _loves_ him.” Barbara shot back.

“Are you saying Bruce doesn’t love his own son, Barbara?” Dick hissed, staring furiously down at her. She didn’t flinch from his stare.

“He needs someone who _knows_ him.” She edited. “And that’s _you_.”

“That’s you too. And Stephanie. Are you saying he should go on patrol with Batgirl instead of Batman, then?” Dick drawled.

“No, I’m saying he should patrol with Batman. _His_ Batman.” Barbara sighed. “…You know, I’m not saying any of this for Damian’s benefit.”

“But you just _said_ -”

“You don’t want to let him go. I can see that.” Barbara tried, her voice gentle. “And I’m just trying to say: _you don’t have to_.”

Dick glanced back down at her, before watching Damian walk nervously towards the Batmobile.

“He deserves this, Babs. I have to let him do it.” Dick whispered sadly. “Is it…is it really that obvious?”

“What, that you love that kid an _extraordinary_ amount? Honey, I don’t have to be Oracle to see that.” Barbara laughed.

If she or Dick were going to say anything else, they didn’t get the chance as they watched Damian walk up behind his father. The final checks were done. Damian looked over the car himself, before saying something with a tiny smirk on his face. A joke, no doubt, something he’d finally allow himself to do sometimes. Something he learned to do from Dick.

But if he was expecting a laugh, or even a smile, all he got in return was a short rebuke, sharp enough to wipe the smile off his face, and make him step back. He blinked once in surprise, then silently bowed his head in subordination as Bruce pointed to the other side of the car.

Dick’s temper flared, and he stepped forward, ready to scold Bruce himself. No one talks to Damian like that. No one talks to _his partner like that_ -

But he stopped himself, even before Barbara grabbed hold of his wrist to hold him back.

…Because this was for the best. This was how it should be. This is what Damian wanted. This… _this_ is what Damian _needed_.

“…You’re breaking your own heart, Dick.” Barbara whispered sadly as soon as the engine started. “And you _don’t have to_.”

“…He’ll be happier this way. And that’s all I want for him.” Dick said with an air of finality. He tugged his arm away from Barbara’s fingers, and turned towards the manor. Bruce had a liquor cabinet somewhere in that big spooky house – tonight seemed as good a night as any to go find it. “You’ll see.”

Barbara didn’t say anything else as he walked away from her. And he didn’t say anything either until he hit the stairs, and wiped the moisture from his eyes.

“…You’ll see.”

~~

He sat at the computer, knees curled up onto the chair, chin hooked over them, arms wrapped loosely around his shins. Words and numbers were sprawled across the screen, but he wasn’t reading them. Had stopped trying about thirty minutes ago.

He heard the voices in the other room. Titans, Teen Titans, Justice Leaguers, Outsiders, Lanterns. Tried to ignore them with a sigh.

Without warning, there was a harsh burst of wind, then a presence to his right.

“Stop pouting.”

Dick pursed his lips, kept his gaze on the monitor. “I’m not _pouting_.”

“You very clearly are.” Wally shot back, amusement clear in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You fightin’ with Bats?”

Dick sighed again, sat back in the chair. “No, I’m not fighting with Batman.”

“Tim, then?”

“No.” Dick rubbed at his eyes. “I’m not fighting with anyone, Wally.”

“Then what’s you’re problem?”

“I don’t have…” And another sigh. He just sighs so much these days. “…I don’t know, man. I really don’t. I’m just…tired, I guess.”

Wally hummed, and Dick knew he looked away when there was a loud laugh from the other room of the Watchtower.

“…When was the last time you saw your kid?”

Dick hesitated, then snorted, glancing up at the speedster. “Wally, you know I don’t have any kids.”

Wally looked back down, raising his eyebrow just slightly. “You don’t want to admit it? Fine, then. I won’t call him _your_ kid. I’ll let you stay in denial today. _The_ kid.”

“ _The_ …?”

“ _Robin_.”

Dick’s face dropped a little. There was another bout of laughter outside the room, and Dick turned the chair this time. It was Clark and Kory. Judging by Bruce’s annoyed look, Clark had teased him somehow, and Kory found it funny.

And between the two aliens stood Damian, an amused-but-trying-to-hide-it smirk playing on his face.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Wally repeated, but gentler this time. “Hung out with him?”

“I dunno.” Dick mumbled, watched as Damian said something to Superman, and the older laughed. Even Bruce cracked a smile, though hid it immediately, wouldn’t even let his son see it. “Few weeks?”

“Few weeks overdue, then.” Wally decided. “…Anyone tell you that you haven’t been the same since then?”

Dick kept staring out the door. Distractedly mumbled: “Since when?”

“Since you gave him up.” Wally said flatly. That, finally, made Dick turn and look back up at him in surprise. “Oh, quit with the face, Dick. I know the truth and so do you.”

“Since wha…”

“Since _you_ broke up your partnership with him. Stopping being Batman.” Wally waved his hands in bored circles. “In some misguided idea that _that_ was what was best for everyone.”

Dick blinked, and then frowned. “It _was_ best for everyone.”

“Bullshit.” Wally returned plainly. “You’ve been miserable on your own since. Grumpy. Lonely.”

“But _Damian_ is great.” Dick countered softly, so his voice wouldn’t accidentally carry out of the room. “He’s thriving. Learning. He’s with his _dad_ , where he _should_ be.”

“He’s with his father.” Wally pushed. “Not his _dad_.” A pause, to watch as Damian glanced into the room at them, tilted his head in curiosity, before Clark retook his attention. “It’s exactly how I was with Barry back in the day, remember?”

“Wally, _don’t_.” Dick warned. “None of that…metaphorical or figurative or _whatever_ bullshit, okay? Yes, he’s my brother, yes I raised him for a little while, and _yes_ I love him to the ends of the Earth. But I’m not what Barry was to you, okay? I’m _not_ his dad. Bruce is, and that’s who he needs. _Okay_?”

“Fine. Say I – or anyone who knows you – believe that.” Wally drawled. “What about _you_?”

Dick opened his mouth, but no answer came out. He floundered for a moment, then found his head turning on its own, looking back out that door. Back at his partner. His _former_ partner. His brother.

Wally whispered: “What do you need, Dick?”

Damian laughed, and turned as Diana walked up to their group. Stared politely up at her as he excitedly began to tell her something. Leaned into the comfortable and safe shadow that was Bruce. Spoke freely, openly, passionately without worry or care. Was safe and…happy.

Damian was happy.

“Dick?” Wally asked again, a hand on his shoulder.

Dick turned his chair back around, pushing Wally’s fingers away.

“I need to finish this report.” He mumbled quietly, ignoring the lump in his throat. “That’s what I need.”

~~

He wanted to die. He wanted to scream.

He couldn’t _stop_ crying.

Damian was gone. Damian was dead.

It was all Talia’s fault. No, it was all Bruce’s, he put him in this situation.

No. No.

It was his own fault.

Because he let him go. He gave Damian away. He gave him back to Bruce, practically _threw_ him back into the war between his parents.

And what if he hadn’t? What if Barbara and Wally were right? What if he’d kept Damian? Stayed his guardian? Fought for their partnership? Put Bruce in his place when he saw him ignoring his son, or treating him poorly? Made it his personal mission to keep Talia away from him at all times?

What if he was around more often? Answered when the kid called? Hung out with him?

What if he told him he loved him more? _Showed_ it?

He slid to the floor of Damian’s room, tears leaking through the fingers he hid his face behind. The hindsight hurt, the what-ifs were ripping his heart out, but nothing hurt as much as reality.

The reality that Damian was dead. That he’d never see his little brother again, or hold him, or hear him laugh, or watch him grow.

Damian. Was. Dead.

And even beyond the actual fight. Beyond the fact that Damian died _protecting him_.

Dick left him behind. Dick left him with people he _knew_ would hurt him, purposely or not.

It was all. His. _Fault_.

~~

He stood on the porch, clutching the bottle of beer Lois had handed him. Bruce, Clark and Diana were standing over by the barn, probably talking business. Tim and Conner were sitting on the tractor, complaining about school – or rather, Conner nodding politely as Tim complained about Wayne Enterprises.

Damian was off near the fields with his dog. With Titus and Clark’s dog Krypto and…

…and his _friends_.

Jon Kent. Maya Ducard. Kathy Branden.

They were laughing, Damian included. Running around as the dogs chased them, as Kathy and Jon rose and fell above them with their flying powers. As Maya stuck close to Damian, teasing and ruffling his hair. As Damian accepted it, accepted her affections and presence.

His heart hurt a little, thinking about how Damian used to let him do that.

And it’s not like Damian _stopped_ allowing that – but Dick never saw him. Dick was never home. Apparently neither was Damian. Apparently something happened between him and Bruce – _again_ – and Damian made it clear that the only person he’d come home for was Alfred.

Dick didn’t know that. Dick didn’t know what happened between Bruce and Damian this time, because Damian stopped calling him. Damian stopped telling him. Damian stopped asking him for advice, or help, or comfort.

Just like Dick didn’t know Damian had friends his age for the same reason.

And since when did Damian get taller? When did Damian lose that baby fat in his face? When did he get so mellow?

When did he grow up?

(And why did Dick miss all of it?)

And it wasn’t jealousy pinging in his soul when he watched Damian lean into Maya’s side as he teased her. Wasn’t bitterness when he watched Jon swoop Damian up into the sky, and instead of being angry, Damian laughed harder than Dick had ever seen.

It was sadness, because he missed it. Because these were all things Damian used to do with him – _only_ him – but no longer. Regret, because he still wondered if it was the right thing to do, all these years later, distancing himself from his little brother. Leaving him to live with and be loved by Bruce. Because he couldn’t help but wonder how this all translated in Damian’s poor, traumatized, little head. Did he feel abandoned? Unloved? Alone, again? Or was he jumping for joy? Thrilled to be living the life he always imagined as a child?

And resignation, because he was right, despite what Barbara and Wally and everyone else said. Because he wanted Damian to be happier, and get everything he dreamed of. And he did. He worked with his father, he gained friends and allies. He was loved, and listened to and _protected_.

Dick’s own feelings were never part of the equation. Were never supposed to be.

Damian grew up. Damian was happy. It was all Dick wanted.

It didn’t matter that Dick never had another partner after that. Didn’t matter that he’d more or less been alone himself since they parted ways. Didn’t matter that Dick missed him like crazy, worried about him every second of every day. Didn’t matter that Dick was miserable more often than not these days, these _years_ , without that shadow, that little tie to reality when everything was a mess and he felt like he was drowning.

Damian hugged Maya. Allowed Kathy to hug him.

Dick took a drink out of his bottle.

It didn’t matter.

It _didn’t_.

~~

It’d been years. Ten, maybe eleven, or twelve. Could have even been twenty. Dick didn’t know, wasn’t thinking about it as he stumbled into the bunker, pulling his mask away from his eyes and rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Wasn’t thinking about it when he glanced up and saw Batman at the computer.

The new Batman. Or new _er_.

(Not that Bruce had given up the cowl. He never would, they all knew that. Knew he’d die for real in it, even if he was 105 years old.

But two Batmans in one cave was too much, especially when there was a nice unused bunker in the tower downtown.)

There was no cowl on. Just a cat curling into the obnoxiously large collar of the trench coat, rubbing at his owner’s hair until Dick was close enough. Then peeked over that collar and greeted him with a pleasant chirp.

“Hey Damian.” He called boredly. Damian perked and glanced over his shoulder.

“Grayson.”

“Just leaving or just getting in?”

“Getting in.” Damian mumbled, turning back to the screen. “Just…ah…working on a case.”

Dick leaned against the desk, looking at the monitor. “Really?” He asked, taking in the images and article clippings. They were old. A few Batmans and Robins old. “Because last I checked, Pyg was in Arkham, and Simon Hurt hasn’t been seen in a good decade or so.”

Damian didn’t respond.

“Unless I missed something?” Dick poked. Looked back to the screen and found himself smiling at one of the photos up. He and Damian as Batman and Robin, leading Pyg out of the fairgrounds they’d fought him in. Their first case.

Damian hesitated, seemed to be purposely avoiding Dick’s gaze. Then he huffed, and began shutting the files, one by one.

“No, it was…” Damian cleared his throat as Alfred the cat hopped down to his lap. “Sorry, I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole in our files…”

“No, no. It’s okay.” Dick reached out, touched the hand that was frantically closing all the windows. “It’s cool to reminisce sometimes.”

Damian hummed, but gently pulled his hands away from the computer, and out of Dick’s grasp, instead opting to pet gently at Alfred’s back.

And it was a comfortable enough quiet, but despite the years, Dick prided himself in being one of the few who could ever read Damian. A skill he refused to let go of, no matter what.

“…Something on your mind?” Dick murmured, crossing his ankles. Damian shrugged silently, and Dick couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. Even as a twenty-something, he could still be so childish sometimes. “Come on, Damian. You know you can tell me.”

“…Back then. When we were partners. When I was Robin.” Damian whispered, after another moment of silence. He glanced up, but still couldn’t hold Dick’s stare. “Was I…not good enough?”

Dick’s easy smile dropped instantly. “What?”

“Was I a burden?” Damian asked. “Is that why…you left?”

“Left, I…” Dick was floored. “What…what brought this on all of the sudden?”

“Not sudden.” Damian shook his head, leaned his head back against his chair like he was exhausted. “I’ve _always_ wondered.”

Dick could only stare.

“And then you stopped coming back to Gotham, stopped really working with anyone in the family, kept moving from city to city…” Damian listed. “And you leaving or being gone while I stayed always seemed to correlate with Father’s mood being particularly sour so I just…figured out one day that it was something I’d done. Or somehow I’d been the cause.”

“No. God, _no_ , Damian, you didn’t do _anything_ , I just…” Dick ran his hands through his hair, then dragged them back down his face. “Jesus, why didn’t you ever _talk_ to me about this?!”

“I tried. Subtly.” Damian admitted. Shrugged nervously again. “I guess _too_ subtly.” He looked back up at the screen, at one of the photos of the old days. The _good_ old days. “I eventually _stopped_ trying, assuming I was bothering you. So I…I tried to move on instead. Tried creating teams and partnering up with other heroes…”

“Jon. The Titans.” Dick remembered out loud, behind the hand he kept clasped over his mouth.

Damian nodded. “And while Jon did become someone I grew…very close with, it still didn’t – _doesn’t_ – compare to what you and I had.”

Dick could only close his eyes. “God, Damian…”

“And I missed you.” Damian admitted finally. “I missed you terribly, but…but you seemed happier so I knew I had to let you live your own life, whether I was part of that or not.”

“No, I wasn’t!” Dick suddenly burst, pushing off the desk and practically stomping his foot. “God, fuck, Damian, I was _miserable_! I’ve _been_ miserable!”

Damian seemed surprised to hear that.

“I missed _you_ like crazy! I _hated_ leaving you with Bruce! I didn’t even fucking _want_ to!” Dick ranted, beginning to pace in the small space. Damian just silently turned his chair to watch him.

Alfred just meowed judgmentally. Knowingly.

“I hated not working with you anymore! I hated missing you grow up!” He let out a growl. “I’ve hated _everything_ since working with you!”

Silence, to let that echo.

“…Then why did you?” Damian whispered.

Dick huffed, turning to him. “What?”

“Why did you leave me with Father then, if you didn’t want to?”

“Because.” Dick practically whined. “It’s what you _wanted_. You’d always wanted to work with Bruce and be with your dad and I…I just.” He stared at Damian. At the man he became. “I just wanted you to be _happy_. I just wanted you to be the happiest you could be, and I _knew_ that wasn’t with me.”

Damian stared at him. Blinked a few times. Then looked down at his cat.

“…Oh.”

“Oh.” Dick mocked with a bitter laugh, turning away to hide the tears building in his eyes. “Yeah. _Oh_.”

“And I…I hate to kick you while you are down, but you were wrong.” Damian mumbled. “I know I was just a…a snobby child, but I wish you would have talked to me about this before you’d made your decision.”

Dick sniffed. Crossed his arms. “Why.”

“Because I was happiest when I was with _you_. Working with you, being _raised_ by you. Your friendship.” Damian admitted softly. “And even all these years later, that sentiment has not changed.”

Dick looked at him, and he watched Damian’s face morph as the tears spilled over from his eyes. “Really?”

“Really.” Damian gently shooed Alfred from his lap and stood. “Oh, Grayson. Please don’t cry.”

Dick crossed the space before the words were even out of his mouth and wrapped him in his arms. He didn’t care that Damian was Bruce’s height now, that he was forcibly pulling Damian down and probably hurting his shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” He sobbed, lifting one hand to hold the back of Damian’s head. “I am so _sorry_ , kiddo. God, I’m an _idiot_.”

“Well, I won’t argue that.” Damian laughed, carefully patting Dick’s back.

But Dick immediately leaned back, taking Damian’s face in his hands. “You were perfect, okay? You never did anything wrong. I didn’t leave because you were a burden or annoyance or anything like that, okay?” He squeezed Damian’s cheeks slightly. “ _Okay_?”

“Okay.” Damian laughed, trying to pull away, but Dick was having none of it. Just tugged Damian back in, holding him like he was still that ten year old he left behind.

And Damian would never admit it, but deep down, somewhere, he probably was.

Dick held him for a few more minutes, until he could control his tears just a little better. He glanced over to the computer, stared at a blurry image of he and Damian flying over the city, as the bat and the bird.

“Hey.” He sniffed again, wiped the remaining moisture from his eyes. “How about a patrol. Just you and me, like old times?”

“We’ve both already patrolled tonight.” Damian offered, backing away. “Besides, Grayson, you’re tired and emotionally compromised.” He blushed a little in embarrassment. “My apologies.” But then continued. “Not to mention…you’re _old_. Do you think your body can handle another?”

“Not _that_ old.” Dick scolded, tapping Damian’s nose. “And another patrol with _you_? Not only can I handle it, I can _still_ beat you across the rooftops in a race, just like I used to.”

Damian scoffed. “Oh, you can _not_.”

“Prove it.” Dick smirked, backing to the table where he’d dropped his mask, right next to Damian’s cowl. He picked up the cowl too, tossing it to Damian. “Let’s go, Robin.”

Damian let out a laugh, a happy, joyous, excited one, as he tugged his cowl back on and quickly followed Dick to their bikes.

“Right behind you, Batman.”


End file.
